


Only Connect…

by madame_meretrix (laisserais)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-23
Updated: 2008-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laisserais/pseuds/madame_meretrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life doesn't allow take-backs. But sometimes there's do-overs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Only Connect... [1 of 2]**_  
Title: Only Connect…  
Pairing: Jensen/Jared; Tom/Mike  
Summary: Life doesn't allow take-backs. But sometimes there's do-overs.

Written for [](http://apreludetoanend.livejournal.com/profile)[**apreludetoanend**](http://apreludetoanend.livejournal.com/) 's birthday and posted only a couple of months late. She wanted J2 College AU and, as usual, I perverted the genre for my own nefarious ends. I hope she loves me anyway. [](http://apreludetoanend.livejournal.com/profile)[**apreludetoanend**](http://apreludetoanend.livejournal.com/) and [](http://yourlibrarian.livejournal.com/profile)[**yourlibrarian**](http://yourlibrarian.livejournal.com/) were the absolutely heroic betas on this, and [](http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/profile)[**thatotherperv**](http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/) and [](http://pigeon-kisses.livejournal.com/profile)[**pigeon_kisses**](http://pigeon-kisses.livejournal.com/) were the cheerleaders. Title helpfully supplied by E.M. Forster.

  


* * *

 ****

Only Connect…

[then]

Jensen squinted up at the sky, tracking a white-winged bird as it flashed in and out of the sun. Years later he'd learn it was only a common seagull, but today it was beautiful, the way it circled and swooped, circled and swooped. The sand between his toes felt good, cool and squishy as it sank beneath his feet. He turned around to watch the water erase the footprints he'd left behind.

He looked over his shoulder, back up the beach, but his mom and dad weren't watching. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the way his mom was waving her hands, he could tell they were yelling again. Jensen turned back to the waves.

He'd never seen the ocean before.

The cool breeze sent a shiver up his spine and the calmness, the rhythm of the waves as they washed up to meet him, felt soothing, like he was safe. Protected by the sound of the water and the birds as they flew. He never wanted to leave.

He took another step in.

The water reached his knees, the sand turned into pebbles, and they felt good, too. He squatted down, reaching a hand below the foamy surface, feeling what he couldn't see beneath the bubbles. Something swam by his legs. It looked like clear jello, and he wanted to catch it so he ventured another step in.

He almost had the jello-thing in his hands when the sound of his mom yelling scared him. "Jensen!"

Jensen turned to see both of his parents running down the beach toward him.

"Jensen! Stop!"

He smiled, wanting to explain that it was okay, but the look on his mom's face as she got closer made his smile fade. She looked like she was crying.

"It's okay, Mom!"

The surf was up to his waist as he turned back towards land. His mom met him halfway and pulled him up to her chest, hugging him so tight he couldn't breathe.

"Jensen, honey, never do that again. The waves are dangerous; they could've pulled you under. Sweetie," She pulled back and ran a hand down his face. Jensen tasted salt. "You have to be more careful."

Jensen nodded, overawed at how terrified his mom looked. He never wanted to see her look like that again. "Okay. I'll be careful, I promise."

She smiled at him and they turned back to the beach where his father was waiting at the water's edge. Jensen was five years old.

*

[now]

Mike busts open Jensen's door without knocking and says, "What fresh hell is this?"

Jensen licks a finger, turns the page in the book on his lap, and says, "Dorothy Parker. Hell is other people."

"Jean-Paul Sartre. Hell is chrome."

Jensen looks up, stumped. "Who said that?"Fp>

Mike shrugs. "Wilco. Come on crankenstein, locomote. Tom's putting the finishing touches on his hair."

Jensen takes in Mike's outfit. It's truly remarkable. "How many hot pink snakes had to die to make those pants?"

"Forty-seven, but it's all right. They were pleather, and you know how there's that overpopulation problem."

"Yeah, they've got no natural predator, except maybe good taste."

Tom pops his head in, smiling. "Jensen, you coming out with us, man?"

Jensen hesitates. He's said no to them so often that it's almost a knee-jerk answer at this point, but the fact is, he really doesn't feel like going anywhere. Hasn't felt like it for a while. "Nah, I think I'm gonna hang here. Read some more. You guys have fun, though."

Tom nods and leans on the doorjamb, looking resigned.

Mike, on the other hand, never gives up. "Jensen, if you don't leave the house soon your dick's gonna shrivel up and fall off. Then you'll be a eunuch, all alone and sad and living in Tom's closet in your dickless condition."

"Eunuchs still have their dicks."

"Way to miss the point. Come on, we're going to The Beauty Bar. There's live music, it'll be fun. And look, Tommy did his hair in fashion bangs, just for you."

Jensen takes a closer look at Tom. "Dude, you look about twelve."

Tom brushes a hand over his hair, blushing, and Mike barrels ahead, "Oh, and! It's two-for-one appletinis. _Appletinis_ , Jen."

"Curse you for discovering my one weakness." Jensen leans back in his chair, feels his spine pop.

Tom says quietly, "Seriously, the band tonight sounds pretty cool, it's like…what'd the flyer say?"

"Tonight! For one night only, the southern stylings of _Kane_. Bring your own barbecue." Mike loves using his announcer voice. Jensen has no doubt that if he could, Mike would make everything sound like a wrestling match.

"That was it, southern stylings. Did it really say bring your own barbecue?"

Mike shrugs and looks at Jensen meaningfully. "Last chance, Jenny boy. Fun's gonna happen without you."

Jensen smiles. "Thanks, but I gotta work in the morning. Let me know how it went."

Tom pulls on Mike's sleeve, backing out the door. "Well, you know where we'll be, if you feel like going out later."

The door shuts and Jensen can hear Tom in the hall saying, "Dude, the room's small, but it's not a _closet_."

Jensen feels guilty, like maybe he's pulled some sort of bait and switch on Tom and Mike. Going out every night lost its charm a few months back, and he can't bring himself to go anywhere, even if declining invitations all the time makes him feel like a wet blanket.

Back when it was the four of them, things had been different, but the whole third wheel act is getting lame and he wouldn't blame them if they stopped asking him to come along.

Lately, even when he does go somewhere, he doesn't feel like he's holding up his end of the fun. Maybe the fun's too heavy; maybe there just isn't any, he doesn't know. But he's sure that sooner or later, they're going to figure out that he's a drag.

Jensen's still reading the same page an hour later. The entire exercise is pointless anyway, because the book's hardly relevant anymore, but it had been a reflex to pick it up as he'd browsed the used bookstore. He'd seen the title, _A Comprehensive Guide to Marine Invertebrates_ , and knew he'd need it. But the truth is, though, he doesn't.

He sighs, puts the book down and walks over to the window. The street, two stories down, is lit up and jam-packed with drunk people. He watches a girl weaving on and off the sidewalk, leading a pack of guys who are egging her on. She looks like she's one sip away from eating pavement.

The weekends bring out all the suburbanites.

When Tom had offered him a room in his place Jensen had been in a hurry to move, and the deal had seemed sweet. The neighborhood had felt alive; thriving on the energy of a seething throng of people, all here for the same reason. All here to carve belonging out of a world that didn't want them. He'd thought he could blend in here, find a niche of his own and disappear.

Yeah, three months ago this had all seemed like exactly what he wanted. But now he's a little less sure of that.

The street and his head aren't going to get any quieter, so he grabs his keys and goes for a walk.

*

[then]

The day they'd finally got here, it had felt like the first taste of freedom. Jensen was more than ready to shake off the road dust of a cross-country trip; shake off the opinions of small minds in small towns.

He'd brought the only good thing he'd found in Texas with him, and together they were going to make their own world.

"Dude. This place is even smaller than it looked in the pictures." Jared huffed as he set down the last of the boxes.

"Yeah."Jensen rifled through a box marked _dishes_ , hoping to find anything remotely pot-like in which to start dinner. "That's the last time I let you pick out a rental on craigslist."

Jared swatted his arm gently before leaning on Jensen's back, chin tucking into Jensen's shoulder. "Hey! You liked it, too, you know."

Jensen stood up slowly, pulling Jared's arms around his waist and leaning back.

"I still like it. It's fucking awesome. And you know why?"

Jared kissed his neck before murmuring, "Why?"

Jensen turned around in the circle of Jared's arms and smiled. "Because it's _ours_."

"Damn right." Jared grinned back, kissed him gentle and slow, pressure of lips against lips.

Jensen slid his hands down into the pockets of Jared's jeans and squeezed, mouthing little bites along Jared's neck and pulling him closer. Jared was hard, and he bent his neck to let Jensen nibble on his ear, the spot Jensen knew drove him wild.

"Ah, Jen…we should…we gotta get that…that trailer back to the U-Haul place before they close."

"It can wait." Jensen slid a hand in the back of Jared's pants.

Jared groaned. "We can't afford to pay for another day. I can-oh."

"You can oh?" Jensen bit his earlobe a little harder.

"Yeah. I can uh…" Jared spread his legs apart, arching into Jensen's hand, and Jensen knew thEy weren't going anywhere that night.

Working at the buttons of Jared's shirt, he guided them toward the still sheetless bed. Harley and Sadie had figured out immediately that it was the best spot in the house, and were now curled up square in the center.

Jensen lifted his head from Jared's chest to shoo them off. "Go on guys, scoot."

Jared turned around and laughed. They were doing their best 'we don't understand English' impression.

"Here, let me find their pillows. We can't make them get up without someplace better to go."

Jensen sighed. "Damned boy and his dogs. Remind me why I put up with you."

"Because you love me and couldn't leave me behind, not even for a two year program. Anyways, like I was gonna let you move to San Francisco without me. It's like," Jared waved a hand at the room, "gay Disney World."

"Gay Disney World?"

"I've seen the movies, I know what goes on around here."

Jensen watched him throw clothes, shoes, sheets all over the room, disorganizing everything just to make sure his dogs were comfortable, and his heart squeezed tight.

God, Jared might be the best human being on the planet.

"Ah-ha!" Jared triumphantly raised an enormous plaid pillow above his head and smiled. "Come on, kids. Come over here."

Jensen tumbled onto the bed as the dogs ran over to their spot. He propped his head on his arm and watched Harley turn in a circle and Sadie sniff at where Jared pointed.

Jared was with him, and he wasn't going anywhere. Jensen had everything he ever wanted, and it was all going to be okay.

*

[now]

The streetlights make connected pools on the sidewalk, separated by occasional rivers of shadow. Jensen stops at a corner, yellow blending into red.

"Lonely?"

Jensen blinks and looks up, right into the adam's apple of a guy leaning against a wall. "Huh?"

The dude's wearing a wifebeater and jeans that look like they're painted on. "You lookin' for a little company?"

It takes him a minute to understand that he's being propositioned. Oh.

"Oh. Uh, no. Thanks, though."

"If you change your mind, I'll be in there." The guy gestures behind himself, at a neon sign that blinks: _The Velvet Glove_.

Jensen nods, feels his throat working. Because the sign is familiar. His feet have been walking without him and now he's less than a block from his old place. The place where Jared still lives.

Maybe it's coincidence or maybe it's where he's been heading all night, but either way, he gives in to temptation and almost jogs the rest of the way, the sudden desire to _see_ Jared again consuming everything else.

It's a terrible idea. Being here, lurking outside the apartment, _wanting_ , but.

From across the street he can see a light on in the living room. Jared's lying on the couch, half in shadow, half lit up by the blue strobe of the television. Jensen breaks out into a smile.

Jared's home.

And that's good. It's a good thing to know that Jared's home and doing fine and…still in the world. It's reassuring.

And now that he's reassured, he should turn around and leave. Jared has made his opinion about Jensen abundantly clear, but he just… _has_ to see his face one more time. And Jared won't know. He won't find out and it'll be fine. He'll wait until he sees Jared stand up, and he'll look, and it'll be fine and then he'll leave. Simple.

He crosses the street.

The picture window frames the couch, and he watches Jared scratch Sadie behind the ears before lifting Harley off his legs.

He gets an instant tactile memory of those hands touching him. Kneading into muscles tight with stress, skimming the back of his arm, clutching at him in need. Jensen misses them fiercely.

He's so close to pretending that the last three months haven't happened. He's poised at the doorway, ready to ring the bell, beg Jared's forgiveness, whatever it takes. Just to see Jared's smile, maybe touch him. One more time.

Jared stands up and stretches, coming closer to the window and Jensen stops. Emerging from the shadows, the shape takes form and it's wrong. Too lean, too short. It's not Jared.

There's a guy in their house. A guy who isn't Jared, who lets Harley lay on his legs while he pets Sadie and watches TV.

Jensen backs away. Slowly at first, eyes on a guy who is not Jared, ambling around in their living room. He's moving all slow and lazy, like he lives there. Like he belongs there. When the thought occurs to him that very soon Jared himself _will_ come from some other part of the house and… _touch_ the guy, he turns around and runs.

Downhill, into the first bar he finds, and orders a whiskey. When the bartender pours it out, Jensen lays down three twenties and keeps his hand on the bottle.

*

The medicine cabinet slams a little too hard and Jensen's reflection wobbles. The bruises on his neck blur into one giant, purple blob.

He looks like he got attacked by a vampire. A really fucking inept vampire. Muscles he didn't know he had ache and there's no more aspirin. A fist of regret clutches his stomach and in turn, Jensen clutches the toilet like the secret to life itself is down there somewhere. When the shaking stops he's sore and so very, very sorry.

He remembers.

A guy watching TV in the dark in his house. He remembers two a.m. and the bar closing, a hand in his pants, slobber on his neck. Disentangling himself from a human octopus in skintight Levi's. He remembers blowing a kiss and making a sad face, like the last thing in the world he wanted to do was leave.

Somewhere there's water, aspirin. Maybe, if he can find his shoes, even coffee. Jensen retches one more time and then stands up on unsteady legs.

This hollow ache is all that's left.

All he can do now is convince himself that the force of someone else's desire is proof that he lacks for nothing. Someone else wants him and that's enough; the thing he's missing never really existed. The pounding in his head is forming a mantra. It sounds a whole lot like _Unfaithful_.

BuT just exactly who is being unfaithful to whom is unclear.

Pulling on his clothes he looks at the clock and realizes he's late for work. "Fuck."

*

Sunny days—real, honest-to-God, _hot_ days in San Francisco—are so rare that the city feels like one big party. Everyone goes to Dolores Park to sunbathe, and Mike drags Jensen there, blanket in hand, saying, "Your ass would scare a ghost."

Jensen's not in the mood for sunshine, but Mike's insistent so they compromise by finding a spot under a tree. The park looks like an enormous green bowl, full of half-naked people spread out and worshipping the sun like it's a god they can appease. Beyond the downtown skyline Jensen can see the bay, sparkling blue and calm.

Jensen stretches out on his back in the shade. He keeps his collared shirt buttoned to the top, doesn't feel like explaining his stupidity to Mike. His hangover's almost gone, but he's still wrung out, the image of a guy in a window seared into his eyelids. He can see it every time he closes his eyes.

Mike strips down to a bright purple bathing suit and plops down next to him. "How was work?"

"Sucked."

A gigantic guy, all oily muscles and chest hair, saunters by in nothing more than cutoffs and Mike's practically drooling as he mutters, "Oh my good lord."

"Dude, that guy's totally a sex offender."

"With abs like that? He could sex offend me any time."

"You know what's a sex offense? Your- what'd you call those," he makes air quotes when he says, "swim trunks?"

Mike rolls over and shakes his ass at Jensen. "These are regulation Olympic racing briefs. Don't be hating just because you can't pull these off, Jenny."

"Please never say that sentence again. You're worse than Tom."

"Speaking of sex offenders and Tommy, guess what we did last night."

Jensen groans. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to."

"A priest." Mike sounds utterly gleeful.

"You _did_ a priest."

"Yeah. Well, Tom did, mostly."

"How'd you know he was a priest?"

"Yeah, at first I thought it was just a little role play, what with the collar and the rosary, but then he took us back to his house, which was a rectory and-"

"Oh my God. You had a threesome with a priest in a church?"

"Not in the church, in the _rectory_. Well, Tom did, mostly." Mike laughs way too hard at his own lame joke.

Something in his tone catches Jensen's attention. He's heard about Mike and Tom's exploits before, usually from Mike, and they'd always seemed kind of…harmless. Gross and perverted maybe, but harmless. Today though, Mike sounds almost strident. Like he's got to prove something, make it seem like he's wilder than he is.

Jensen props his head in his hand and studies Mike's profile. Mike's a friend, and maybe he should step in here; say something. Ask something. But they're not really close like that. They don't…share. As weird a thought as that is, considering some of the shit Jensen knows about him, nevertheless, this feels awkward. He waffles so long that Mike looks over at him.

"What?"

"What?"

"You're staring at me. See something you like?" Mike wiggles an eyebrow and grins.

Jensen sucks in a breath and goes for it. "So like, what do you- what are your- do you and Tom have like, rules, around this stuff?"

"Rules around what?"

"Around…hooking up. With other people. Do you just do whatever you feel like, or are there, I don't know. Rules?"

Mike purses his lips for a long second before saying, "Tom's not the kind of guy to settle down."

" _Tom_ isn't?"

Mike looks at him with a smirk. "Don't let the investment banker thing fool you. He may act like he's a buttoned-down, all-American boy, but that's just his routine. Why do you think he lives the way he does?"

Jensen had never considered it before. He'd met them as a couple, and he'd accepted them like a package deal. A crazy, overwhelming package. Like a _Welcome to San Francisco_ fruit basket.

"What's wrong with the way he lives?"

"He won't even keep a toothbrush at my place, but he's got how many kids living at his?"

It's true. Jensen has no idea how many roommates he actually has. He thinks there's supposed to be four, but every time he wanders out of his room there's someone he's never seen before.

"I figured he was always over at your place because of all those guys."

"You know he owns that building, right? It's not like he needs the roommates. And much as I love him, I really wish he'd at least get his own toothbrush."

"What about… You cool with the way things are?"

"I don't hate it." Mike keeps his eyes on the park, shrugs. "We have fun. It's not like it's serious or anything."

Jensen doesn't push it. He can tell Mike's uncomfortable, isn't saying what he means. With all of his own messed up issues, he'd never realized that maybe sometimes too much freedom could be as bad as too little.

Mike sits up and grabs a bottle of suntan lotion, smearing it over his blindingly white legs, "So anyway, this priest, he might as well have been a wet noodle. He was terrible! He was all sweaty and nervous, and kept like, humming under his breath. It was a weird scene."

"Huh." Jensen doesn't know what to say to that because priests probably aren't supposed to be all that good in bed. He settles on the hopefully neutral, "Lousy sex is lousy."

Mike rubs lotion on his shoulders. "Sex is sex, though, you know? Kind of hard to fuck it up."

Jensen sits up and watches a labrador retriever catch a frisbee on the other side of the park. "Dude, there's nothing worse than crappy sex. I'm sorry, but. You're getting into it, you're in the moment, and then you realize that you might as well be alone, for all the effort the guy's putting into it? No way. I'd rather jack off at home. Least then I wouldn't have to shower first."

"You're saying you wouldn't take lousy sex over no sex at all?"

Jensen shrugs and watches the labrador retriever catch the frisbee again.

Mike puts down the lotion and grins evilly. "Jensen, don't be-"

Oh God. He knows where Mike's going with that, so he cuts in, "Don't fuckin' say it."

"Don't be such a-"

Jensen's laughing, "I'm warning you now-"

"Don't be such a chick!" Mike cracks up laughing and Jensen swats him.

"That's it, you owe me five dollars."

Jensen lays back and lets the sun soak into his bones. He shuts his eyes and tries not to see the loop in his head. A guy laying on a couch, petting the dogs. In _his_ house. All day, he's been fighting off thoughts about it, but the meaning of what he saw last night is unmistakable. Jared's met someone and that someone – scrawny and short though he may be – is comfortable in Jared's life. In Jensen's old life, which means there's no room for _him_ anymore.

Mike makes a _tsk_ noise and waves a hand at the park. "They should know, it's like a rule: you don't bring dogs here on a Saturday. It's unhygienic."

Jensen follows Mike's gesture to the patch of dust and scrub grass where now an entire congregation of dogs are having a meet and greet. "Well, but it's usually a dog park. There's nowhere else to go in the city if you want to let your dog off leash."

Mike says, "He's not here."

Jensen says, "Who?" like he doesn't know what Mike's talking about, but he does. And he's surprised that his motives for agreeing to come here are that transparent.

"Jared. He doesn't come here anymore."

Both of them keep their eyes on the park. "Do you still-" Jensen clears his throat, goes for nonchalant, "-you still talk to Jared?"

"Yeah, sometimes. He's my friend, too."

And that's true. It used to be the four of them, when they'd first got to town, and Jared had hit it off right away with Mike. They were both philosophy majors, and they used to sit for hours in Mike's bar, talking about crazy, abstract things that made Jensen's eyes cross.

Jensen nods, doesn't say anything. Mike's a pretty cool guy for not dropping him as a friend.

He could ask. He could ask Mike how Jared's doing. Could say: _So, Jared seeing anyone?_ And Mike would tell him, because Mike would know and he's not the kind of guy who would lie about it, regardless of how painful it might be.

But if he did that, then he'd have to admit that he was stalking Jared, and he's pretty sure that in turn, Mike would tell Jared about it, which. Yeah, not the greatest plan.

Mike looks at his watch and sighs, starts pulling his clothes back on. He turns to Jensen when his head clears his shirt and says, "To fear love is to fear life, Jensen."

"Who said that?"

"Bertrand Russell."

"Oh yeah, that guy." Half the time he doesn't have any idea what Mike's talking about, and it's a shame that Mike only uses his powers for evil. Jensen wracks his brain to come up with a return shot.

He says, "There is always some madness in love."

Mike smiles. "Nietzsche. Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love."

"Come on, that one isn't even hard. Shakespeare."

"Yeah, well you're getting rusty. Figured I'd lob you an easy one. Look, Jensen, you've gotta get back in the swing of things. You've been moping around for like, a year now."

Mike stands up and so does Jensen. "It's only been three months."

Mike concedes, "Okay, three months. Still. That's a long time." Jensen follows him through the crowd.

Only three months, but it feels like forever and it feels like yesterday. Jensen still doesn't say: _there was a guy in our house_ , but three months isn't long enough. Jared can't be over him yet. He can't because it's not fair. Jensen feels like he's never getting over it, and if that's true, then their relationship was something…important. Despite the evidence, Jensen knows that what he saw has to be a lie.

But the only way to make sure it's a lie is not to know the truth, so he doesn't bring it up, even though he's sure Mike would know.

They get to the end of the park and before they part ways Mike turns to him, "You gonna visit me at work tonight? There's gonna be a Wet Jock-Strap contest."

Jensen huffs a laugh. "Last time I went, I didn't win."

"I had it all rigged, until that porn star showed up. Okay, listen, Tommy's gonna invite you to dinner next week. Some client of his just opened a restaurant. Please come? He'd never say it, but I know it's important to him. Don't say no."

Jensen nods at his feet. "Yeah, okay."

"Awesome." Mike smacks Jensen on the shoulder. "Well, I'm off like a prom dress."

"See ya."

It's all downhill from the park to his house, an easy ramble that takes no effort. Jensen adjusts his sunglasses and ignores the cruising looks of a couple of guys at a table outside a café.

All these shiny kids imported from the suburbs, they never lost anything. Never fucked anything up. He knows he looks like he's one of them.

*

[then]

It was past three in the morning when Jensen opened the front door as silently as he could. He tiptoed in, praying he didn't wake up Jared or the dogs.

His shoes were an impossible tangle, and he fumbled with the laces for way too long before giving up, toeing them off and padding into the kitchen in search of water. The light from the refrigerator sliced through the gloom and he caught a shape out of the corner of his eye. He spun around and saw Jared, sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at him.

"Jesus! You scared the crap out of me."

Jared's jaw was tense when he said, "Are you screwing around on me?"

"What? No."

Jared got up and crossed into the kitchen. "Then I don't understand. I don't get what you're doing, Jen. You dropped out of school without even telling me, you stay out all night partying…You come home drunk like, five nights a week, you know that? It's like something snapped all of a sudden, and I don't even know why."

And this argument was starting to get old. Jared was always on his case about school. Jensen could handle things just fine and he was seriously sick of the henpecking. "Jared, look, it's no big deal. You should have come with. Me and the guys were just—"

"I _moved_ here, to be with you and… And I feel like I never see you. Hell, I feel like I don't even know you."

That was new. Jared's tone was Serious. Jensen felt the room tilt sideways. He might have drunk a little too much.

Jared moved closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "I know it's hard, being so far away from home, but—"

"You don't get it. I don't miss Texas, I'm having a little fun. You're always riding me about stuff and…I can handle it. I know what I'm doing. You should try loosening up a little bit."

Jared took another step closer and the knot in Jensen's stomach eased up a fraction. "I'm just. I'm just asking for a little time with you, you know? You're my boyfriend, partner, whatever. And I never see you. You don't _talk_ to me."

"We're both busy." Jensen stepped toward him and they were close enough to touch, whispering in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Jensen watched Jared's hand come up, fingers ready to curl around him, and he leaned in, closed his eyes.

When the touch didn't come, he opened his eyes and Jared was back across the kitchen, jaw set in a hard line. "No. _I'm_ busy. You're fucking around. You're never here and when you are, you don't help out or do anything. You're not _with_ me."

Jensen's stomach did a roll, but he tried for levity. "Jared, come on, it%2s not that big a deal. We're both under a lot of pressure and we just…haven't made any time for each other. All we have to do is _make_ time, right?" He grinned as charmingly as he could, watching Jared process that. He was nodding a little, which was a good sign. "How 'bout this: next Friday at The Stud is Panic At the Disco. You like them, right? Mikey's bartending; we'll go, have a good time, see a band. What do you say?"

Jared was shaking his head and backing up and Jensen knew he'd taken the wrong tack. It was all right there, clawing at his throat, pulling him under.

"You're not taking this seriously. I think you might need to figure out some stuff on your own. Without me. I can't—"

Every time he took a step forward, Jared took a step back. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. "What does that mean?"

Jared blew out a breath and Jensen could see that he was shaking as he brought a hand up, smoothing his hair. "You're not listening to me, and…"

It was happening. What he'd always known would happen. What he'd been waiting for from the very first day.

"And what?"

"Maybe, I don't know. Maybe you need to get your head together or… Sow your wild oats or something."

Jensen was suffocating in thin air. Jared's words were a confirmation of what he'd always known, hoped Jared wouldn't figure out. He wasn't good enough to keep this. Didn't deserve to hold onto it. "You don't want me here anymore?"

Jared looked so sad when his mouth twisted into a smile. "You haven't been here for a long time."

Jensen shoved out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Sadie perked up as he came in, but didn't get off the bed. He pulled out a duffel bag and started blindly shoving clothes into it. He heard Jared follow him in, but didn't turn around.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'll be out of your space in a minute."

"Jensen," Jared's tone was cajoling, "come on, don't—"

"No, I get it, it's cool." Jensen's eyes hurt, and it was getting hard to see what he was doing. If he accidentally took something of Jared's well, that was too bad.

He picked up his shoes at the door and carried them. He'd have put them on once he was outside.

"Jensen wait—"

He let the door slam and took the stairs two at a time.

*

[now]

Jensen runs into Tom in the kitchen.

"Hey."

"Hey." Jensen rummages on the shelf marked with his name. Ramen, spaghetti, a can of beans and an unopened package of walnuts that he's pretty sure is left over from the last guy to use the shelf. As usual, there's nothing, and if he doesn't want to starve he'll have to leave the house. He grabs the walnuts and tears them open.

Tom's busy at the sink, but he calls over his shoulder, "So, heard you went sunbathing."

"Yeah."

"See anything good?"

"Man, if you and Mike wanna have orgies or whatever, that's cool and all, but I don't want to know about it." Jensen thinks the walnuts could almost make a meal, but realizes a second too late that they're so stale they've turned into mush. He shoves Tom out of the way and spits into the sink.

Tom laughs. "Not for me, for you. Were there any hot guys there?"

Jensen closes the cupboard and leans against the counter. "Nah."

Tom goes back to scraping a plate into the sink with a look of disgust. "Man. Tamales with jelly was really not a good idea."

"At what point were you thinking that it would be?"

"I don't know." Tom shakes his head mournfully. "You wanna go get a burrito or something?"

Jensen shrugs. "Sure, but lemme change, I reek."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Like you could smell me over the stink of this place. It smells like a sock in here."

Tom grins and spreads his arms in a gesture of futility. "Boys."

Jensen shoves off the counter and heads back to his room. " _Gay_ boys. What's the point of being gay if you're just gonna act like you live in a frat? No, don't answer that, you kinky bastard."

He can hear Tom's laugh all the way down the hall.

*

They've ordered and they're sitting on sticky plastic chairs. Jensen's tapping his foot to the rhythm in his head and Tom's staring at him like he's an especially problematic profit and loss statement.

Jensen raises his eyebrows in a question and Tom says, "Hey, that band the other night was awesome. The singer was really cool. We ended up talking backstage for like an hour."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Mike knew the sound guy so we went back there."

A guy walks in, stares hard at Jensen and Jensen fidgets in his chair, turns to watch the woman behind the sneezeguard dump a soupy ladle of carne asada onto a tortilla.

Tom shakes his head, grinning. "You get hit on a lot, man."

"Huh? No I don't."

"Whatever, I'm just saying. I'd kill to get half the offers you do, and I do okay."

Jensen twists a napkin into a tight roll, avoiding Tom's look. After the talk he had with Mike, thinking about how _okay_ Tom does is just plain awkward.

%Cp>"Forty-one! Forty-one, carne asada burrito for here."

Jensen springs up and takes his basket with a mumbled _gracias_ , grabs a plastic cup and fills it with salsa verde before sitting back down at the table.

Tom pulls a long swig off his Negro Modelo. Jensen says, "What'd you get?"

"Chile Relleno. Those take a while, though. You go ahead."

"Thanks, I'm starving."

Tom takes another sip and leans in. "So you don't go out much anymore."

Jensen shakes his head in the negative and takes a bite.

Tom says, "You seem…unmoored. Adrift."

Jensen swallows most of the food in his mouth before saying, "You know you always do that? You say a word, and then you say another word right after that means the same thing."

"You don't know what you want, so you don't take anything at all." Jensen slows down in his chewing. He's fucking hungry, and he doesn't need to hear whatever kind of demented pep talk Tom has in mind.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's almost like you don't _want_ to be happy. What's so hard about it?"

Jensen sets down his burrito carefully. "Is this an intervention or something? Did Mike put you up to this?"

"No. Why, did Mike say something, too?"

"Uh-huh. In the park."

"Man, you gotta stop going there."

"I don't—"

"It sucks that things didn't work out. He made a choice, and you didn't get to be a part of that, but now it's your turn to make a choice." Tom pulls the gold foil off his bottle in one smooth strip.

Jensen strains to keep his voice level when he says, "How about we don't have this conversation."

Tom leans back in his chair. "Look, all I'm saying is that you're free. Take advantage of the fact."

"I appreciate your concern. I do, but I'm fine. Seriously. I'll make more of an effort to hang out, if you want, but I gotta say, you don't make it easy on me."

"I don't make it easy?"

"Yeah. You and Mike are always going to places with slings bolted to the ceiling, and guys in latex face masks and shit. That's really not an experience I want to have more than once."

Tom laughs, loud and long. "Remember the look on your face? That was priceless. I thought you were gonna turn tail and run."

"I would have, if Jar—I would have. You didn't even tell me it was bondage night!" Jensen laughs at the memory, and a little bit of the tension melts.

"Yeah." Tom gives him a sly-dog grin. "Sorry about that. Mike made me promise not to warn you."

"I think that fucker took pictures."

"He did. One of them's the wallpaper on his laptop."

"Forty-two! Forty-two, chile relleno for here."

"That's me."

When Tom comes back Jensen says, "So what's up with you and Mike? You know he tells me about your stunts sometimes, which—by the way—a priest? Dude."

Tom's laugh sounds a little startled. "What's up with me and Mike?" He shrugs. "I don't know, we hang out."

"You hang out _all_ the time."

"Yeah."

"So are you in a relationship? Because I always thought you were."

"Relationship? I wouldn't define it as such, no, but," Tom shrugs, "he's down, and he knows that I don't really…"

Jensen watches him put down his cutlery. Tom looks away before continuing, "My philosophy is that you don't know what's gonna happen, so you gotta get what you can, when you can. Don't get tied down unnecessarily."

"Well, you might be getting what you can, but missing what you have."

Tom smirks. "Hey, who's shrinking who, here?"

"I'm just. I got the impression things were more serious, that's all."

"Mike and I, it's complicated, you know? It works, however it works, and I don't like to look at the gears too closely."

Jensen studies the soppy dregs of his burrito, says, "Sure."

Tom finishes off his beer with a swig and burps loudly. "You free on Monday? A client's opening up a restaurant, and she wants me to be there. It'd be cool if you could make it."

Jensen agrees because he knows it's more important than Tom's making it sound. He wonders if Tom's that way about a lot of things.

*

Jensen wakes up because his phone is vibrating. By the time he fumbles it open and says, "Hello," whoever it was has already gone to voicemail. He looks at the clock and groans. It's nine a.m. and his freaking day off. A second later his phone vibrates again, telling him he has a message.

It's the hospital at Jared's school. Jared's been admitted for a fractured wrist. Jensen's out the door in less than five minutes.

*

[then]

Jared's hair smelled like sleep and he was warm. Jensen wondered if the miracle of waking up next to him and feeling so…happy…would wear off. If he'd have time to get used to this before the inevitable happened, and he was alone again.

That wasn't something he wanted to think about right now, though. Right now he was content to lie there, listening to Jared breathe and feeling his warmth for as long as possible.

Too soon the stereo kicked on, playing Neil Diamond's _Cherry Cherry_ , and Jared sat up with a start.

"Are we gonna make our own lightning?" Jensen smiled when Jared gave him a confused look aNd he reached out, skimming a hand from Jared's shoulder to his ribs, resting on his waist. "Morning."

"Morning." Jared leaned down to kiss him and winced.

"Shit, are you still sore?"

"Yeah, just a little." Jared closed his eyes, forehead pressed to Jensen's shoulder. "I really messed myself up good."

"I still can't believe how much damage you did, just falling off a curb." Jensen ran a hand through Jared's messy bedhair. "You gotta be careful."

Jared looked up at him and smiled. "Yeah. It was pretty funny though. Well, I thought so, once I landed. There were like, a thousand people in the quad. When I stood up, everyone applauded."

The way Jared looked in the morning, all muzzy and rumpled, hair askew and light stubble, always made Jensen smile. He looked young. Happy.

The morning was also the best time to get him to do stuff, because he was really suggestible.

"Don't get up yet," Jensen said, voice pitched low and hands wandering. Jared shivered at cold fingers, and Jensen mouthed kisses down his neck. "You have time."

Jared groaned, but he burrowed deeper under the covers and Jensen flipped them over, licking down his chest.

"I've got a final this morning." Jared's protest was feeble, at best.

Jensen lifted up to whisper, "I know," against the path his tongue had been making, and Jared shivered again.

"I can't be late."

"Uh huh."

"Jen." But he said it like a sigh, so Jensen took it as encouragement. Jared clutched at his shoulders and Jensen eased his hands away, holding Jared down to the bed and biting softly at his hipbone.

"Ah! Jen, I gotta go. Seriously, I can't…mmm. Miss breakfast."

Jensen moved lower, sucking up a mark on Jared's thigh and rumbling, "Breakast, it's the most important meal of the day."

Jared stretched out all his limbs, and Jensen knew he'd won.

The stereo changed tracks and Jensen's ears were assaulted with _Shake that ass! Show me what you're workin' with!_ And the mood was most definitely spoiled.

Jared got up and Jensen rolled onto his back with a groan.

"Mystikal? Dude, that's what they make headphones for."

Jared laughed over his shoulder as he pulled on his boxers. "Hey, my room, my playlist."

"I bet you put on this song and imagine me, don't you?"

"You shaking your ass, or you demanding that I show you what I'm working with?" Jared accompanied his grin with a demonstration of just what, exactly, he _was_ working with, and Jensen laughed.

"Mm, I like the second one better. So you're really getting up, huh?" Jensen rested his head on one arm and tried for a _Playgirl_ pose. "You're gonna get up and leave all of this?"

Jared's smile turned wicked and he bit his lip, prowling back over to the bed. "Well, you do make a persuasive argument."

"Hell yeah, I do." Jensen let his thighs slip wider as Jared crawled up his body.

"Okay, tell you what. I'll stay, and you can take my test."

Jensen wrapped his legs around Jared's calves, pulling him closer, feeling the way the muscles in Jared's back tensed and flexed underneath his hands. "Sure, no problem. What's it about?"

Jared licked his ear, said in his sexy voice, "It's a timed essay on Wittgenstein and logical positivism."

"You should go, don't wanna be late."

Jared laughed. "It's my last final, and then we don't have to get out of bed for a week. Promise." He kissed Jensen's neck, fingers tight on Jensen's hips for one more second, then his warmth slid away and Jensen shivered.

"A whole week in bed. I'm holding you to that."

"Yeah, it'll be awesome. We can eat, watch TV, put ointment on each others' bedsores…"

"I'll roll you over every once in a while, give you a sponge bath."

Jared's eyes sparkled when he laughed, and Jensen lay back, content, watching Jared shove heaps of messy papers into his bag. He realized that he felt centered, like things weren't slipping out of control every second.

Watching Jared hunt for his other shoe, Jensen winced every time Jared favored the side he'd fallen on. He felt the need to protect Jared, and he was pretty sure it wasn't a noble urge, either. More like he knew that he needed to keep Jared safe because Jared brought him…joy. And Jensen never wanted to lose that.

As Jared threw on a coat and ran out the door, Jensen wondered when he'd turned into this.

It was something to marvel at, the way he felt drawn out of his head and right into the surface of his skin. Like he was finally a _part_ of the world, and that was okay. Jared did that to him, and in turn, he wanted to be a better person. Be the kind of man that Jared could depend on. Someone Jared would maybe want to stick around for.

*

[now]

"Hey, you okay?"

"Hey. Jen! What are you doing here?" Jared looks dazed when he turns around to face him. He's sitting on a table, feet scuffing the floor and his left wrist in a cast.

"The hospital called me."

"Oh. Sorry, I must've forgot to change my emergency contact information."

"Don't worry about it. You know I'll always—" Jensen stops himself, runs a hand through his hair. "What happened?"

Jared gives him a weak smile. "Oh, you know, the usual. I was running late for class and I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk." He ducks his head and Jensen watches a flush creep up his neck at the admission.

Jensen comes up and leans against the table, hip bumping Jared's knee. "You always were clumsy."

"I'm not clumsy! I'm just…absent-minded." Jared snaps his head up, but he's smiling, which is a good sign. Jensen can't get enough of looking at him. Knows every angle, every mood; he can read Jared's face better than his own.

Jared breaks eye contact first and says, "So. How are you? You look like shit."

Jensen laughs. Jared Padalecki: never one to mince words. "Yeah, well I tore out of the house like a bat out of hell when I got the call. You're lucky I didn't show up in pajamas."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, again, about that."

"Are you seeing someone?" Even as the words leave his mouth, Jensen can't quite believe it. He sucks air through his teeth, wishing for all the world that he'd thought before speaking. He says, "I was out for a walk and I went by your place." As if that explained it.

Jared arches an eyebrow and Jensen can feel himself get red. "You were out for a walk and you just _happened_ to go past our place?"

Jensen nods.

"You were strolling through the seediest part of town, because you, what? Needed exercise?"

Jensen shrugs.

"And because of that, you think I'm seeing someone new."

And it all comes tumbling out, "It's not like I was stalking you or anything, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by, but there was a guy."

"A guy."

"In the living room. He was petting Harley and Sadie. So, I mean, it's cool or whatever, you don't have to explain, I just…"

Jared gets a look on his face, understanding and amusement and Jensen would give a million dollars if he could start this conversation over again. Jesus, he's such a schmuck.

"Jensen, are you jealous?"

"What? No. I was just gonna…" his mouth is so dry, "gonna say congratulations. I hope he's nice to you." And oh fuck, what else he could possibly say to make this whole thing worse?

"Well, because if you were jealous, I'd have said _good_." Jared lets out a long breath. "But there's no reason to be. That was the dogsitter. I went home for a couple of days."

Jared still calls Texas home. But more importantly: it was the _dogsitter_. Jensen stands a little stRaighter, feels a little lighter. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, my little sis had that dance recital, and I'd promised I'd be there. You remember, we were going to fly out together, see everyone?"

"That was last week?" Maybe if he tries really really hard, Jensen can fuck this up some more. Jared nods slowly and Jensen feels like the poster-child for foot-in-mouth disease.

There's a knock at the door and they both turn around.

"Mr. Padalecki? You're all checked out. Here's your insurance card, and instructions for the care of your cast, and oh," the nurse holds out another slip of paper, "A prescription for a pain reliever, if it gets bad."

Jared takes the items with a smile. "Thanks, I really appreciate all of your help, m'am."

The nurse gives him a bright smile and says, "Well, you take care of yourself. I don't want to see you back in here again."

"No, m'am."

The nurse leaves and Jared slides off the table. "Listen, you left a bunch of your stuff at home—my place—um... CDs and some textbooks and stuff. If you ever wanna come by and get it or…"

Jensen watches him shoulder his bag and shove the paperwork inside. "Sure, yeah, I should get my stuff. Sorry about that. Thanks for not tossing it all."

Jared opens the door for Jensen and follows him onto the sidewalk. "No, no, I didn't mean that I didn't want to hold onto it, I just figured you'd like to have some of it back."

"Yeah, definitely."

They're both just standing there, looking at each other. More than anything, Jensen wants to reach across the distance and pull Jared into a hug. He clears his throat and says, "Which way you heading?"

"Oh." Jared looks at his watch. "I missed class, but if I hurry I can still be on time for work."

"You still work at the shelter?"

"Yeah. Don't know how I'm going to wash a bunch of hyperactive puppies with one hand, but," Jared laughs, "I'll figure it out. What about you, where you heading?"

"Well, I haven't had any coffee yet, so I'll probably grab some on the way home."

"Right on. So. I'm going this way…" Jared hooks a thumb over his shoulder and there's a moment where Jensen's not sure if he's being invited along, or what. He nods, trying to figure it out, and Jared looks at his watch again.

"Okay, well, take care. Glad you're alright."

There's an awkward shuffle, where Jared leans in like he's going to hug Jensen, but Jensen sticks out his hand, then drops it and goes in for a hug, and Jared sticks out _his_ hand. They laugh and end up shaking hands, but Jared's grip is tight, and he doesn't let go for a long time.

Jensen watches him cross the street and says to himself, "So here's the real question: Why are you such a complete and total ass?"


	2. Only Connect... [2 of 2]

_**Only Connect... [2 of 2]**_  
Part Two

  


Jensen's heard of this place. The owner's some kind of sadist; she serves all kinds of shit humans aren't supposed to eat and she charges for the pleasure. He never would have come here if he hadn't been meeting Tom.

He's late when he opens the door and walks into warm air and French jazz. The place is suitably ambient – old time light bulbs, the kind that don't give off any light beyond their coil, hang from the ceiling in clusters; the walls are painted black, with dark wood trim. It's swanky and a little fussy and definitely not his scene.

The server looks like he goes to art school, and he's way too cheery as he greets Jensen with a wide smile and, "Right this way, sir. Your party is waiting."

Jensen follows him along the narrow length of the restaurant to a booth in the back.

A couple of feet away from the table, Jensen's stomach drops. There's someone else in the booth. Someone besides Tom and Mike.

Tom hadn't said anything about anyone joining them, and he's not up for making new friends tonight. Tom spots him and waves.

Mike follows the gesture and stands up, greeting him with a hearty, "Jensen! Get over here." And goddamn if this entire situation doesn't have Mike's fingerprints all over it.

The server is hovering, so Jensen orders a Chimay and sits down at the end of the booth, facing the stranger. "Hey. Sorry I'm late."

Tom says, "I was just telling Chris about that time in the laundromat when Mike did a striptease to _He's So Shy_ and the owner came out and said he'd called the cops, and you grabbed your wet clothes and ran—"

Mike interrupts him, "You ran for the door, and then slipped on a pair of tightie-whities. Ha! Remember that?"

Jensen smiles tightly. "Yeah. Good times." And who the fuck is Chris?

Mike tells the table, "Jensen didn't know that it's legal to be naked within city limits."

"You keep saying that, but it's not getting any truer." Jensen's really trying for affable, but it's a stretch at this point.

Tom smiles at him. "By the way, Jensen this is Chris. Chris, Jensen."

Jensen looks the guy in the eye. "Hey man, nice to meet you."

Chris says, "Yeah, you too. Been hearing some tall tales here."

"Yeah? Well, you should only believe the bad stuff."

"Chris is the singer for that band we saw the other night," Mike says, "Did you know they painted The Beauty Bar purple? _So_ much more hetero than the pink it used to be."

"Yeah, turns out Mike and I have a couple of friends in common," Chris says, "We got to talking, and he told me I had to check this place out." He waves a hand in the direction of the kitchen.

Jensen nods like he believes that and picks up his menu. "So I hear they serve crazy stuff here."

"Yeah, Stephanie – my client – said the concept was 'simple peasant food' which looks like it means," Tom scans his menu, "bone marrow on toast. Hm."

There's a lull in the conversation as they all cringe at the entrée choices.

Mike sets his menu aside and says, "So, Chris, do you speak Greek?"

Somebody kicks Jensen in the shin. "Ow!"

Tom mumbles, "Sorry," as Mike bursts out laughing, and poor Chris just looks bewildered.

"Uh, no. Took a couple of years of Spanish in high school, but that's about it."

Jensen tries not to smile. He wonders if Mike thinks he's being subtle, and then he wonders why the fuck Mike would ambush him with a blind date whose sexuality is open to interpretation.

And then he remembers: because it's _Mike_.

When the waiter brings Jensen his beer, he takes a deep swig. The evening is getting awesomer by the minute.

"Are you guys ready to order, or do you need a little time?"

Mike and Tom are in a whisper fight, so Jensen looks over at Chris, who shrugs. "Uh, could we have a couple of more minutes?"

The waiter backs away and Jensen, doing his best to ignore Mike and Tom, tries to come up with small talk. "So…you're in a band, huh?"

Chris says, "Yeah, it's me and a friend of mine. We sing, play guitar, tour once in a while." His laugh is rumbly, and his accent sets up a thrum of familiarity in Jensen's chest.

"You from Texas?"

Chris looks like he's about to respond, but Tom's voice gets loud. "Yeah, but I'm not the one who spends eighty bucks on _moisturizer._ What is it, made out of blowjobs?"

Mike says, "How much _are_ you paying for blowjobs these days?"

"Born there. Raised all over the south, though."

Jensen drags his eyes away from Mike and tunes back in to Chris. "Huh. So you're in town for the gig?"

"Yeah, we had that one, and we're opening up for The Black Keys next week, so I thought I'd hang out for a couple of days. See the sights." Chris smiles at him. "Y'all got a real nice town, here. What about you? You sound like you might be from Texas, yourself."

"Are you calling me a schnorrer?" Mike's leaning in close to Tom now, and Tom looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"Only when you sleep, baby."

Jensen looks over at Chris, and he's determined to salvage whatever civility he can out of the downward spiral that this evening is rapidly becoming. "Yeah, I came here for school, actually, but I'm on sabbatical at the moment."

Mike jumps back into their conversation, "Jensen is a regular old-fashioned cowboy. He wears flannel with no irony."

Chris is looking at him with a twinkle in his eye and Jensen shifts. "Just because I don't listen to _Death Cats for Cutie_ doesn't mean I'm some backwoods yokel."

Mike and Tom crack up laughing and Jensen's mystified. He looks over at Chris, who's holding back a smile. "What?"

Mike says, "Listen, I'm having a party next weekend and you both have to come. It's going to be awesome. Black tie optional, guitars required."

"Thanks, man." Chris nods and turns back to Jensen. Says, "So, whereabouts in Texas you from?"

And this guy's intentions are unmistakable. Which just makes the whole thing suck worse, because he seems genuinely nice, but Jensen is in no way prepared to get to know him. He's way too sober to think this is a good idea, and he knows that Mike is just trying to help, but now Chris is going to be hurt and Jensen makes a mental note to politely request that in the future, Mike stay the hell out of his love life.

"Dallas, basically. Suburbs of."

"Dallas, that's a great town." Chris takes a drink of his beer and nods, clearly waiting for Jensen to pick up the slack.

But Jensen has made a vow never to discuss Texas if he can help it, so he changes the subject. "Uh, so…you just tour all the time, or…"

"Have been for the last year or so, but Steve—he's the other guy in the band—he'd like to take a break for a while. Got a girl down in L.A., and he's lookin' to settle down." Chris glances over at Tom and Mike, who have picked up their fight, and Jensen figures he'll have to hear about it all—from both sides—in the coming days. Chris takes another sip of his beer, pulls apart a piece of bread, and says, "So, Jensen. Where do you work?"

And see, this is why he doesn't want a new friend. Explaining himself to someone else means he's got to look at what he's doing. He's got to evaluate his life, instead of what he wants to be doing, which is basically living it on autopilot.

But this is probably just as awkward for him as it is for Jensen, and Jensen should really put in a little more effort. "Well, I make lattes right now, over at Ritual. It's a coffee shop."

Chris leans back in his seat and smiles. "Oh, yeah, the place with the hammer and sickle logo, right?"

"Yeah, it kinda does look like that, huh? But I think it's supposed to be a coffee cup." Jensen leans his elbows on the table. "Yeah. It keeps me busy."

Nothing is lamer than talking about your lame-ass job, though, so he abruptly shuts up. He can't think of anything else to say, and they sink into the awkwardness of actively not-listening to Tom and Mike.

Tom murmurs something, to which Mike says, "Are the pope's sheets clean?" and Jensen almost chokes on his beer. Whatever set Mike off tonight, Jensen can guess that Tom's never gotten his ear chewed quite like this.

The waiter comes back and Jensen and Chris smile at each other in relief.

"Have you decided what you'd like?"

Mike leans away from Tom and says, "I'll have the bitter, with a slab of sarcasm on the side, thanks."

*

The weather turns mean again, stealing away the sun and leaving behind a fog that blankets the world in a lethargic damp.

Jensen wakes up from a nap, a dull headache setting up behind his eyes, throbbing in time with his heart. He hates working the morning shift, because he always ends up crashing in the afternoons. With the curtains drawn he can't tell if it's day or night and he fumbles with his phone, checking the time.

It's only six, not even primetime, so he looks at the guitar propped up in the corner, the stack of paperbacks on the nightstand. He's got plenty to keep himself busy, but it feels like he should be doing something else. Something is off, and it takes him a second before he realizes what it is.

It feels like he should be doing homework. He looks over at his desk, where normally there'd be a notebook open, a stack of books, a giant mess. It's weird that today, after months of not being in school, he notices the lack.

None of his stuff is here, though, textbooks included. The stuff that _is_ here doesn't belong to him. He looks back over at the guitar – Tom's – and then on to the bookshelf – also Tom's. The bed, the nightstand, the desk: all either Tom's, or leftovers from the endless parade of slackers Tom hosts.

He's been squatting in someone else's life for three months.

Without thinking about it too much, he dials Jared and gets his voicemail. He isn't prepared, though, so his message is long and rambly. "Hey, Jay, it's me. Jensen. Uh, it was good to see you the other day – I mean, the circumstances were crappy, but it was still... Listen, if you need any help, like with taking the dogs out or whatever, with your cast, I can. I can help. I could take them out." He lets out a long breath before continuing, "Give me a call, I'd be glad to help."

He hangs up before he remembers that he was going to ask for his textbooks.

Tom's in the living room killing robots when Jensen shuffles past.

"Hey."

Tom swears as something explodes on the TV and he sets the controller down. "Hey, man."

Jensen plunks down next to him and takes up the controller, thumbing the buttons idly. "What's up?"

"Nada. Just killing time before I gotta shower and get ready."

"What's going on tonight?"

Tom inspects his toes, picks at a nail. "Uh, Mike's party. You going?"

"Are you? Thought you guys were in a fight."

"Huh? Oh, right. Sorry about that." Tom grins like it was all some kind of a prank. "Kinda left you hanging the other night."

"Yeah, that was completely awesome, by the way. Thanks for setting me up, not telling me about it and then abandoning me to a stranger while you and Mike started a bar brawl."

"We didn't have a _bar_ brawl. More like a…heated discussion."

"Did you get it all worked out? Because man…"

Tom laughs. "Yeah, kind of. Mike, he um…pointed out a couple of things, and he was right. Mike's usually right."

Jensen nods, setting down the controller. "Right on. So you're good."

"Yeah, we're good. Although I gotta say, I don't know if I should thank you or hit you."

"Me? What'd I do?"

"You, my friend, are a troublemaker." Tom grins again before slapping Jensen on the knee. "But it's a good kind of trouble. And anyway, I guess I paid you back. Chris seemed to like you."

Jensen tenses up. He and Chris had, eventually, hit it off pretty well. Chris didn't push, but all through dinner, Jensen had felt it: a gentle insistence, a good-natured inquisitiveness, a warm confidence from Chris that they would get to know each other. And once he'd calmed down and stopped trying to think of things to say, Jensen had found himself opening up, and it turned out they had a lot in common.

And hell, Chris is pretty funny, definitely hot. But there's still a voice in the back of his head, saying: _wrong smile, wrong laugh, wrong everything._

He's not saying any of that out loud, though, so he just smiles back at Tom and picks up the video game controller again.

"You're coming with tonight, right?"

"Nah, I've got a headache, and I got the early shift tomorrow—"

"Jensen, come on, you've always got an excuse. When was the last time you kicked back and just enjoyed yourself, huh? You do remember what fun is, right?"

Jensen's still foggy from his nap, but he thinks Tom might have a point. He's been moping around for days, actually looking forward to what'll be on TV and _fuck_ , he just called _Jared_ without even thinking twice. It might be time for him to get out of the house for a little while. Let off a little steam. Something. Anything to keep him from booty calling his ex in a moment of cloudy judgment.

Tom goads him. "Come on, you should come."

"Yeah, maybe I should."

"Yeah?"

Jensen scratches his head. "Yeah."

Tom jumps up. "Go get dressed."

"I am dressed." Jensen looks down at himself. Grey t-shirt, jeans, socks. He's almost completely covered in clothes.

"Not for a party. Go make yourself look nice. And shave, you lazy ass, you look like a mountain man."

Jensen laughs, but he gets up. "Maybe I'll put on a different shirt."

*

[then]

"Here, lemme get that." Jared took the grocery bag out of Jensen's hand so he could open the mailbox.

"Thanks." Jensen opened the door to his apartment while shuffling through his mail. _Bill, bill, flyer for summer school, bill_. And there it was, right between the farmer's market circular and the gas bill: an envelope with _USF_ in the return space.

He stopped walking and Jared bumped into him, dropping the dogs' leashes. "Dude."

"Sorry." He turned the envelope over in his hands a couple of times and then tossed it on the table with the rest of the mail.

"What is that?" Jared peered over his shoulder before continuing on to the kitchen.

"Nothing, just a letter from The University of San Francisco."

Jared paused at the fridge and turned around. "What? That's awesome! Are you gonna open it?"

Jensen sighed. "Fixin' to."

Sadie and Harley were on the couch, fighting over a cushion. Jensen took the letter over and plopped down next to them. "You guys, knock it off. You pull out the stuffing and I'll make Jared clean it up."

Jared snorted, sitting down next to Jensen and hugging Sadie close to his chest. "What's it say?"

Slowly, Jensen tore open the envelope, pulling out a cream sheet of paper folded into thirds.

Jared hovered over him. "Oh my God, could you go any slower?"

Jensen gave him a look and shook the paper out. He read it aloud: "'Dear Jensen Ackles' blah blah blah…'the Biology and Chemistry programs are' blah blah blah…'time-honored traditions of excellence'…"

"You're _killing_ me here!"

"Dude, relax, I'm skimming."

"Skim faster."

"Okay, here. 'The University of San Francisco Doctoral Program in Marine Biology is pleased to accept your application. All students admitted to the program receive generous financial assistance from the Department of Marine Biology, which includes a full-tuition scholarship for their studies…' I got in."

Jared let out a whoop and tackled him to the couch. Sadie started barking and Harley tugged at his sleeve.

"You got in! I knew you would! Congratulations, Jen!"

Jensen let himself get tackled and hugged and barked at. He was glad that Jared was on top of him, because otherwise he might float away.

He'd dreamt about it. Getting into a prestigious school, leaving here, striking out on his own, where he didn't know anyone. It had been a dream for so long.

But now he had two dreams. He'd thought about it in idle moments, but never let himself take it too seriously. After all, what were the odds of it working?

But the thought kept creeping in. If he got in, would Jared come with? It would only be another two years—three, tops—before Jared was done. Maybe Jensen could wait.

In his best daydreams, though, the ones he barely admitted to himself, Jensen would get into the program at USF, and Jared would decide to transfer out to California, too.

Jared leaned up on his elbows and kissed him, a big wet smack, before saying, "We have to celebrate. What do you say, dinner at that Italian place? A movie? Drinks? We should definitely have a toast. Do you know anything about good champagne?"

Jensen stared up at him. Jared was completely happy. Jensen looked, but couldn't find one single scrap of fear or worry.

"You're amazing."

"Huh?"

"You. You're just— genuinely happy for me."

"Of course I am, you freak. You got into the best Marine Biology program in the country. I'm happy because I know how long you've been stressing on it, and I'm glad that they love you as much as I do."

Jared's eyes went big at the confession and Jensen didn't move. They'd never used the 'L' word before.

"I mean. Aren't you happy?" Jared got off him and crossed to the other side of the room. Jensen sat up slowly. Sadie jumped on Harley, biting at his neck.

He could practically see Jared start to freak out, so he ran his hands down his thighs once before standing up and crossing over to him.

"Of course I am. I worked hard for it. And I was wondering... How would you feel about moving to California?"

*

[now]

Jensen follows Tom up the narrow, pitch-black stairwell, the smell of turpentine and patchouli almost choking him. Mike has neighbors who claim to be artists. Maybe they are, Jensen's never been good at judging that sort of thing, but he'll never understand what patchouli has to do with making art.

Mike opens the door, singing, "Oh Jenny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling. You're late!"

"Yeah, I had to work." Which maybe isn't completely the truth, but it's better than admitting that he wasn't going to come at all.

"Work is the curse of the drinking classes. Look at you, lookin' all spiffy."

Jensen looks down at his leather jacket, jeans, boots. Just the same stuff he always wears, although Tom did pick out his button-down. "You too, man."

Mike is in his customary array of finery: a t-shirt—at least two sizes too small—with the words _Men Are The New Women_ across the chest, shiny silver pants and combat boots.

Tom snakes an arm around Mike's waist and kisses him. "Hey baby."

"Hey yourself, stud. Good work on getting Mr. Mopeypants out of the house."

Tom smiles at Jensen. "It's a gift."

Jensen watches Mike and Tom in something akin to awe. He's never seen them be this...gropey before. It would be cute if it weren't completely disgusting.

Mike pulls back from sucking Tom's face long enough to say, "Come in, mi casa and what have you."

They head deeper into the house and Jensen can see the party's already under way. He recognizes a couple of people from around, but nobody he wants to talk to. At least, not in his currently sober condition, so he heads for the kitchen and the beer.

The beer is cold and the music is trendy. Jensen finds himself progressively improving at small talk until a few hours later, out on Mike's patio, he's laughing and telling stories to a girl who's the roommate of a friend of one of Mike's coworkers, completely relaxed and feeling like the world might be an all right place, after all. That's when he turns around and stops dead.

Jared is there.

He's standing there, laughing, and God he looks good. He's wearing his navy peacoat, buttoned up to his chin and his collar's flipped up; his hair's too long and he keeps flipping it out of his eyes. He's chatting with a little brunette girl in the doorway.

Jensen remembers when Jared bought that coat. They were at an army surplus store in Austin, and Jensen had said that he'd never need a coat that heavy. They were moving to California for chrissakes, not Alaska.

He can't tell what's sweating more, the beer bottle or his hand.

Jared turns his way and smiles, bends down to give the girl a hug and then he's striding over, smile getting bigger the closer he gets. "Hey, Jen. I didn't know there was gonna be a party here, but it's really good to see you." Jared keeps moving closer until they're hugging. Jensen hugs back tight.

"Hey, how's your hand?"

Jared takes a step back and holds up his cast, "It's okay. You know, I mean, it hurts, but. Listen, I wanted to say thank you for showing up at the hospital. And for calling, that was really nice and…and I wanted to say thanks, and sorry. For the other day. We left it kind of weird and I—"

Mike runs by, bellowing, "Do not block the cock, for the cock is mighty and it will crush you!"

Jensen smiles and Jared laughs. It's almost like old times.

"Sure, of course. You know that I'll always be around, if you need anything." And Jensen means so much more than that, but there's no way he can put anything else into words.

Jared nods. "Yeah, I think I do know that. You know, I came by here tonight to ask Mike about…well, about you. About how you were doing."

"Oh yeah?" Jensen can tell that it's his hand that's sweating now, so he sets his beer down and wipes his palm on his jeans.

"Yeah, just because, well, I don't know. It seems like maybe you…you're…you seem like you're doing well."

Jensen waits a beat and then says, "Yeah…" Because it feels like there's more Jared's trying to say, and Jensen really, really wants to hear it.

"Look, I've been giving it a lot of thought. That night when you left, and—"

"When I _left_? Jared, you kicked me out."

"But see, that's just it. I _didn't_. I realize, now, that you thought that, but I was only saying that maybe you should…" Jared looks down and his voice gets quiet, "I was thinking maybe you should look into counseling or something."

Jensen stares at him.

Jared looks up. "And I still think that's a good idea, by the way, but I never wanted you to leave, like, for good. I thought that maybe if I gave you some time…on your own, you'd come back. But when you didn't, I…I got pissed off. And I stayed that way for a long time."

"You never said."

"You never asked."

Jensen feels like he might need to sit down. He looks around for a chair, but the only good place is the ledge overlooking the street and right now would be a bad time to fall, so he stays upright. "You could have, I don’t know, called me."

"You could have, too."

"I thought you hated me."

"And I thought you were messing around on me."

They look at each other for what feels like hours. Jensen stares at Jared for so long, the lights start to dance and he blinks. "Well. Shit."

Jared laughs. "Yeah, shit."

"So-"

Someone calls his name and then there's an arm draped across his neck. "Hey, Jensen, how's it going?"

Jensen startles. It's Chris, up close and in his space. Tom's standing behind him, smiling.

"Uh, hey man. How's it going?

"Good. What're you drinkin'?"

"I've got a beer, thanks." Jensen nods, lips pressed tight. Chris is still looking at him, so he blurts out the first thing he can think of, "I can't believe you'd show up anywhere this guy invited you, ever again." Jensen throws a fake punch towards Tom's stomach and they laugh.

"Well, I had a good incentive. And dinner wasn't all that bad."

Jensen turns to Jared, awkward under the weight of Chris' arm, and he can see Jared starting to make assumptions. Jensen wants to pull away, but his feet are lead and all he can do is stare. Because while he may be innocent on a technicality, Jensen knows that he's guilty of intent.

Tom says, "Yeah, these two hid out in a foxhole during the notorious Battle of Bar Tartine."

And it's like watching a car crash in slow motion as Jensen watches Jared's face close down.

Jared's voice is low when he says, "Yeah, Jensen's always been a little conflict avoidant. Ever since that tragic dodgeball incident in gym class."

Chris lets his arm slip off Jensen's neck and offers his hand to Jared. "Nice to meet you. You and Jensen go way back, huh?"

Jared's eyes never leave Jensen's face. "You could say that."

Chris finally gets the weird vibe when Jared doesn't shake his hand, and he steps back. "Looks like we might be interrupting something here." He turns to Jensen and nods. "I'll see you 'round, okay?"

Jensen returns his nod, completely incapable of speech. Tom gives him a confused look, but he backs up and Jensen watches them go.

Dragging his eyes back to Jared is the hardest thing Jensen's ever done. He knows, before he even looks, what he's going to see.

"I guess I just thought, with you showing up at the. Never mind. I'll just. Take care of yourself, Jensen. I hope you find what you're looking for one day."

The power of speech comes back with the power of movement, and he kicks into action a second too late. "No, wait, it's not what you think. Jared, hold on a sec—" Jensen reaches out, feels the fabric of Jared's coat slip through his fingers as Jared walks away.

*

Jensen wakes up from a dream of driving to Texas with Jared. Jared had his head thrown back, laughing, and Jensen could see, beyond his silhouette, that the low rolling hills were carpeted in flowers. Jared's hand was on his knee and in the dream, Jensen knew that it was springtime.

His face is itchy with new beard. He gets up to take a piss, thinks about shaving and goes back to bed, bringing up the covers to block out the daylight.

At some point this had all stopped being fun. Somewhere along the line he forgot that he was celebrating his freedom, not of running away from his problems. He'd crossed a line some ways back, between moderation and excess, and now everything feels like crisis management instead of strategic stress relief.

He wishes he could take it all back.

*

[then]

"No, I don't think I can make it up for Christmas this year." Jensen waited for the explosion, the wailing, but it didn't come. There was a knot in his stomach but he stood firm. He was eighteen, and he had the right to make his own decisions now.

"Yeah, I miss you, too. Tell everyone I said hi." Jensen nodded at the receiver. He couldn't go home for the break because he had a research project due, but he also didn't _want_ to go, and really, that should be enough of a reason in itself. He reminded himself of that again as he hung up.

Even though home was only three hours away and he could have at least promised to stop by for a day, his mom hadn't pressed him. She didn't seem surprised at his answer, either, and Jensen figured that meant that things were getting worse.

He wished they'd just get it over with already and file for divorce. All of this pretending to be a happy family for…what, he didn't know. Hoped it wasn't "for the children" because if that were the case, they were failing miserably. He'd been waiting for the talk since he was twelve. He used to even try to imagine it.

He'd come home after school one day and his mom would be sitting at the kitchen table, looking sad but calm, and she'd ask him to sit, tell him that his father was moving out. He kept waiting for it, but the talk never came. Instead, things got worse, and the chill in the house progressed to something arctic. What was maybe an ice floe when he was a kid had become a glacier by the day he'd graduated high school, and Jensen couldn't deal with it anymore. Waiting for something to happen had felt like being suspended in that ice.

He felt guilty about it. Of course he did, but he'd tried everything he knew, and nothing had ever helped. It wasn't about him, but he was sick of letting the fallout affect his life. He was on his own, finally, and the best that could be said of the entire situation was that at least he was never going to let what happened to his parents happen to him.

The simplest way to not let people let you down is to not depend on them.

Jensen sat down heavily and flipped open a textbook. The dorm was blessedly silent, with everyone gone after finals. He had a project to work on and a whole month of peace and quiet in which to do it. If he aced this, there was a good chance he could use it for his application to grad school. All he had to do was buckle down and apply himself; he'd get out of school and then get out of Texas. Simple. It would just take focus.

*

[now]

Jensen falls asleep watching _South Park_ , wakes up to _Degrassi: The Next Generation_ and Mike sitting cross-legged on the end of his bed. He shifts, feet trying to kick free of the obstruction of Mike's ass.

Mike doesn't turn around. "You know, that Marco is some kind of jailbait."

"I think Craig's hotter."

"You would."

"What are you doing here?"

"I went in to get my cappuccino this morning and your boss said you'd called in sick. I had to _pay_ for my coffee, and now your emo drama is impacting my lifestyle." Mike clicks the remote and turns around to face Jensen. "So listen up, because I'm about to therapize your ass and I only want to say this once: Different strokes, Jenny."

Jensen sighs. He's got the feeling that Mike isn't going to leave until he's said his piece, so he sits up and says, "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

"You haven't left this room since my party, and man, how about cracking a window?"

"Do you have a point?"

"I had to _pay_ for my coffee."

"Sorry. Maybe you should try flirting with some of my coworkers, bet one of them would hook you up."

"Jensen, what's the meaning of life? Don't answer me, that's a rhetorical question, to which I handily have the answer. It's this: To be happy."

"Okay." Jensen's not running on all cylinders yet, but even if he was, he's pretty sure he wouldn't be following this.

"And what makes you happy? Because it sure as shit ain't making lattes."

Jensen shrugs.

"Okay, let me illustrate my point with a parable: Once upon a time there was a little boy who was fabulous. But the trouble was, he was locked up in a very unfabulous tower in a very unfabulous castle, surrounded by nothing but unfabulous corn." Mike stares past Jensen's shoulder. "So much corn. Oh God, the corn."

"Dude?"

Mike shakes himself. "Right, so this boy was too fabulous to hide his light under a bushel. But his only option for escape was college, so when he was old enough, he took off to find the magical kingdom where he just knew that everyone was fabulous. When he finally found this kingdom, he realized that he didn't have to go to school anymore. In fact, he hated school, and knew that it wouldn't bring him the kind of happiness he was looking for, so it was okay if he dropped out."

Mike sits back with a satisfied look and Jensen stares at him.

"Oh, wait. That's not your story, is it?"

"No."

"Okay, here's another one: Once upon a time, there was a little boy who did everything he was told. He was really good at math and his father told him to become an investment banker, so he did. But he was unhappy, because he felt like he couldn't be his real self. So he lived two lives: wiz kid investment banker by day and kinky sexual deviant by night. Soon, he discovered that he was happiest when he called me 'Daddy' while I spanked him."

Jensen recoils so hard that he knocks his head against the wall. "Dude, come on. Remember the rule."

Mike's grin can only be called _sly_. "Oops. That's not your story, either, huh?"

"Is your plan to gross me out of bed?"

"Hold on, I think I got it now. Once upon a time there was a little boy who loved fish— yeah, this is the one. He loved fish so much that he couldn't wait to learn more, and he was never happier than when he was poking octopi where the sun don't shine.

"People told him his dreams were silly; that the real world needed more doctors and lawyers and stuff. People told him that poking fish was impractical, and he should be doing something that would make him a lot of money.

"But this little boy never listened. He didn't care what other people said, because he knew what made him happy. More importantly, he knew that something that made him happy _couldn't_ be impractical. So instead of doing what people told him to, he went to a place where he could do what he wanted, and he lived happily ever after."

Mike wraps up with a flourish of his hands, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, and Jensen raises both eyebrows.

"Octopi aren't fish."

"Seriously though, Jen, me and Tom are doing what makes us happy, but sometimes I wonder if maybe we're a bad influence on you."

"Dude—"

"Different strokes. I don't think you're happy being an irresponsible, half-grown manchild. Being happy takes a lot of elbow grease—oh, speaking of elbow grease—"

"No." Jensen holds out his hands in self-protection and Mike laughs so hard he almost falls off the bed.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop torturing you. But for real, screw your courage to the sticking place."

"You know, that's not an inspirational speech, so much as a call for murder?"

"Fine. How about this, then: grow a pair and take life by the balls."

Jensen sighs. "I changed my mind. I like Macbeth better."

"Alright, good talk. Stop calling in sick to work. Now I gotta go light a fire under Tommy's ass, we're supposed to be eating brunch right now." Mike slaps him on the knee and stands up. "Hey listen, will you be my best man?"

Jensen thinks that it was less a talk, and more like a lecture from the caterpillar in _Alice in Wonderland_ , but he's not going to argue the point. "Your best, man, what?"

"What? No, best _man_. I'm getting married. Or, I guess technically it's commitment ceremonyed. Whatever."

"To who?"

"Tom." Mike's smiling an enormous grin and Jensen makes a mental note not to drink out of any bottle marked _Drink Me_.

"That's… I can't even… Congratulations."

"Thanks. We're gonna have the ceremony on the river where we met."

"That story's not true, right, about how you met?"

"What, the one where Tom french kissed me while giving me CPR?"

"Yeah. He said that you went off a bridge, and when he pulled you out of the river, you wouldn't wake up, so he had to break out his Miraculous Healing Tongue."

Mike laughs. "Nah, he just thinks it's funny to tell people that. Boy likes to pretend he's some kind of knight in shining armor. You probably don't want to know the real story."

Jensen nods, sure that he'd be traumatized if he heard the details.

Mike opens the door and turns back with an appraising look. "Hey, where'd you meet Jared?"

"School. I was his TA."

Mike lets go of the doorknob and faces him again. "Nice. Hot for teacher? Jared's naughtier than I gave him credit for." He crosses his arms and makes a squinty face. "You met him in school, huh? I wonder what that means."

*

[then]

The knock on the door came as he was slipping his laptop into his bag. Jensen turned around to find _that guy_ in his doorway. Jared. The kid who could do absolutely illegal things with his mouth.

God, watching him chew on the end of a pen all semester had eventually forced Jensen to teach sitting down.

More than once over the past few months, Jensen had found himself smiling fondly, thinking about a question Jared had asked in class, or how he looked when he wore that tight button-down with the flowers on it, and he'd snap back to attention, pen hovering over a stack of homework or his textbook sliding off his lap. More than once, late at night, he'd had to stop his hands from wandering beneath the covers, thinking of exactly how good the boy looked in that fucking button-down.

Jensen felt himself break out into a sweat, but he cleared his throat and in a calm voice, managed to say, "Mr. Padalecki. What can I do for you?"

Jared lounged in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and a shy grin breaking out. "Hi. I um…I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed your discussion sections. I mean…" He straightened up and took one hand out of his pocket, knocking over a lamp. "Oh! Shit."

Jensen darted over to catch it and they collided in the middle of the room.

Jensen chuckled, "It's okay, I got it."

Their hands met at the neck of the lamp and Jensen felt a charge race through him. He breathed out once, before pulling back sharply.

Unfortunately, Jared let go at the same time and the lamp went down with a crash. "Damn."

"Jared, it's okay." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I think I got that at Target or something, and anyway, I was thinking about redecorating. That lamp was ugly."

Jared returned his smile. "Sorry. Uh, do you have a broom or anything? I could clean it up."

Jensen shook his head. "Nah, but I've got a key to the janitor's closet. Don't worry about it."

Jared stuffed his hands back in his pockets and studied the mess on the floor, a bright red flush creeping up his cheeks. "Well, anyway. I just. I wanted to say thank you. You made Bio 101 a lot less painful than it could have been. I mean, no offense to the professor, but you've got a natural talent for teaching." As he spoke, he raised his head until finally he met Jensen's gaze. Jensen had never noticed before, but Jared's eyes were changeable, first brown, then green, then blue, shifting in the light like the ocean in a storm.

Jensen realized he was staring and blinked. "Uh. Thanks." He grinned. "That's. It was a great class. You did really well, too."

"Thanks to your help. Seriously, I don't think I would have passed without you."

Jensen shifted, embarrassed. He scraped the side of his shoe through the shards of lamp, making a pile. "I didn't do anything. You're the one who ensured you got the help you needed."

Jared nodded, watching Jensen's foot crunch up bits of ceramics. "So, listen, I've been wanting to ask you…"

"Jared," Jensen cut him off. Oh God. Was he going to do this? He wanted to. He wanted to _a lot_ , actually. And technically, he could now, but that probably didn't make it any less wrong. He shouldn't do this, but his want was like a wave of irresistible force.

Jared was staring at him, caught in the headlights, so Jensen cleared his throat again and finished his sentence. "I don't usually…well, I've never done this, but, I was wondering if you wanted to get some coffee or something, sometime."

They were so close, standing in the middle of Jensen's office with a pile of broken lamp on the floor. Jensen followed the curve of Jared's throat as he swallowed. There was no sound aside from their breathing and Jensen felt his stomach knot up. He'd made a mistake. Jared hadn't come here for any other reason than to say thank you. He was just being polite, and Jensen had fucked it up and now he was mortified. He eyed the doorway, wondered if he could make a run for it.

Jared smiled. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

"Yeah?" Jensen's eyes snapped to Jared's. They were almost blue, now.

"Yeah. I- this is maybe inappropriate to say, but…I've wanted to get to know you better since the first day of class, and I—"

Forever afterwards, Jensen wondered what on earth he was thinking in that moment. It was out of character for him to do something so impulsive, but he stepped forward and kissed Jared. It was soft, only lips touching lips, and Jensen leaned in closer. It was good; better than all of the fantasies he'd tried not to have.

And Jared kissed him back. First slow and hesitant, but when Jensen touched his chest, Jared made a growling noise and brought a hand up, solid and warm, running down Jensen's back, pulling him in until they were flush together. Jensen opened his mouth and Jared's tongue slipped inside.

Later he would puzzle on it, amazed that he'd been so bold, but there was never a moment when Jensen ever regretted it.

*

[now]

Jensen stands silently in the doorway. Jared's petting a tiny little Pomeranian and saying, "That's right. Good boy, Cujo! Good boy. Sit."

Watching Jared smile, Jensen feels an ache spiral up, as if the sight of him fills an empty space. Jared's _familiar_ , like his own name; _comfortable_ , like a Saturday morning; _home_ , like nobody and nothing else has ever been. He stands watching for a little while longer, heart full and eyes sore.

He's wanted Jared from the first moment he laid eyes on him, with a want bordering on physical need. Like something palpable, they shared a connection that had seemed inevitable before they'd ever exchanged a word.

"Who names a Pomeranian _Cujo_?"

Jared turns around. He doesn't sound surprised when he says, "Hey."

"Hey." Jensen takes a step closer. "Where are the kids?" Jared smirks, hooking the leash back on Cujo. And shit, Jensen just called the dogs _kids_ , which used to be their private joke.

"Inside. They're socializing some new intakes. What uh…"

"You get off soon?"

"I-" Jared checks his watch. "Yeah, in about ten minutes."

"Kay. Can I wait for you?"

Jared studies him, jaw jutted out, for a long second. It makes Jensen fidget. "Sure." He nods and leads the dog back into the labyrinthine halls of the SPCA. Jensen nods back, watching them go.

Jensen's always liked this place. Only in San Francisco would an eccentric billionaire leave his fortune to fund a no-kill animal shelter, with explicit instructions to make mini-condos for every animal. It was the first place Jared had applied to when they got here, and he'd been on cloud nine when they'd accepted him. He'd said that it made him feel like he was doing something important with his life.

The expression on Jared's face in that moment had made Jensen feel like the world was the way it should be. He'd wished, then, that Jared could always be that happy.

Jensen leans against a cinderblock wall and tries not to think too much about what he's doing here, and what he's about to try and say.

When Jared comes out, Jensen automatically reaches for Sadie and Harley's leashes. They freak out when they see him, tails wagging and Harley jumping up on him.

Jared says, "So, uh."

"You heading home?"

"Yeah, thought I'd cut through Dolores Park, let the kids unwind after their hard day at the office."

"Can I walk with you a little?"

Jared shrugs. "Sure."

They follow the swoop of 16th street and it's a straight shot down to the park. The sky is turning orange and red, and he can see, beyond the Castro, all the way to the treetops of Golden Gate Park in the hazy distance, each hill is rising up behind the next to be washed in the sunset.

They walk and Jensen remembers how natural it used to feel, how quickly they always fell into step with each other; Jared loping along beside him and the dogs urging them to go faster.

Jared herds them around broken glass and huffs a laugh. "Did you ever notice that broken booze bottles on the street are always like, malt liquor?"

"Huh?"

"Seriously, you never see bottles of Cristal or whatever, smashed on the pavement. It's always stuff like Old E. I wonder how come."

"I don't know." Jensen's confused. Jared's acting like nothing about this is weird. "So. You didn't return my calls."

"You didn't leave any voicemails." Jared's side-eyeing him and Jensen wonders if there's more going on here than he knows about.

Flustered, he blunders on, "So, that's why I showed up at your work."

"I figured."

They stop at a red light and both of the dogs sit. Jared says, "Mike came over the other day."

Jensen's heart sinks. Mike's a meddling bastard.

The light turns green and they cross into the park. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He insulted my fashion, told me there were more things in heaven and earth than cowboy shirts, and invited me to his wedding. What's up with that?"

"Ugh, the wedding. Don't remind me. Mike's threatening to make the groomsmen wear assless chaps."

Jensen takes a moment to unhook the leashes and Sadie tears off toward the palm tree grove. Harley goes after her, pausing only once to look back at the humans, as if to say, _come on, the fun's over here._ Jared takes a ball out of his bag and throws it, and Harley's off like a rocket. Jared sits on a bench and Jensen follows him.

Jared says, "I can't believe those two are getting hitched. It makes like, zero sense." He shifts, stretching out the arm with the cast along the back.

"I know. If anything, they've been arguing more." Harley brings the ball back and Jensen throws it far out into the green expanse of the park. "Hey, how's your arm?"

"Not too bad. A few more weeks and it'll be good as new. Man, I can't wait to take a normal shower."

Jensen watches the dogs play in the light of the setting sun. Sadie's sniffing every tree in the park and Harley's running between clusters of dogs, ball in his mouth and tail wagging fiercely.

Jared leans in and says, "But so, when Mike was over, he… told me some stuff. About you."

After a beat, Jensen says slowly, "Stuff, huh. Like what?"

Jared blows out a breath. "Well, the first thing out of his mouth was the explanation that you didn't fuck that guy at his party."

"No?"

"No. Instead, you crawled into Mike's bed and wouldn't leave, so he and Tom shaved your legs while you were asleep."

"They're such pricks."

"He also told me that you got yourself back in school."

"Well, not yet. I missed this semester's deadline, but, yeah. I'm enrolled for fall."

"And he said something else." Jared runs a hand through his hair and Jensen gets a seriously bad feeling. "He said that you've been moping around like a lovesick monkey."

"Mike's a goddamn busybody."

Jared laughs. "Yeah, he is. But that doesn't necessarily make him wrong."

Jensen keeps his eyes on Harley when Jared shifts on the bench, crossing his legs and leaning back. "Listen, I get it. I put too much pressure on you. I mean, it wasn't like I was expecting you to make me chicken pot pies and pick up my socks or whatever, but I get it now. In my own way, I was smothering you."

"Dude, no." Jensen shakes his head. In his wildest dreams of all of the possible things Jared could be saying right now, this hadn't even made the list.

"No, I mean, maybe I was pushing too hard, you know? I guess…I guess I just wanted to have what my folks had. I saw how they were, and I guess I figured that's how relationships worked, you know? But," Jared laughs, "Dude, you're _nothing_ like my mom."

Jensen clears his throat. "Uh, well, I hope not. Because that'd be weird."

"You needed your space, and I didn't understand that. Maybe I'm—was—too clingy. And maybe…maybe it's something I should work on for next time."

 _Next time_. Oh God. Jensen laces his fingers together, elbows on his knees. "Whatever happened between us, it was one hundred percent not your fault."

"Well," Jared says, "I don't know if we need to rehash it all right now, it just. It's been a while, and I don't know what kind of thing you've got going on, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you. For getting your life together, getting back in school. Those are all the things I wished for you, and. Yeah. That's all."

They sit in silence for a while. Harley brings the ball back and Jensen throws it again. His shoulders are tight and there's a sharp pain behind his eyes. He steadfastly doesn't look over at Jared.

"No, that's not all." Jared sighs. "I miss you, Jen. But at the same time…I feel like I don't really know who you are."

Jensen studies his hand where it rests on the bench, feels the rough plastic under his fingertips. He traces the imprint of the manufacturer on one of the slats, which says: American Plastics Inc., Richardson, TX, 75085, and thinks, _what are the odds?_

Jared continues, "And I don't know for sure, because you never told me, but I get the feeling that somebody messed you up good. When things got hard, you shut down on me. You shut me out."

Jensen's losing his courage. He wishes he could just not have to say any of this. Just like, beam his brainwaves into Jared's head or something. But that's not how this works. Without giving himself time to over-think, he says, "I’ve been thinking about some of the highlights of my life lately."

Jared says, "Oh yeah? Like what."

They're sitting side by side, both watching the dogs play, and it feels like Jensen could just reach out, take Jared's hand, and Jared might let him. He doesn't try. "Like… The first time I saw the ocean. The day I mastered E-flat diminished ninth. But the best day? You know what the best day of my life was?"

"Does it involve oral sex of some sort?"

Jensen laughs. "No, but that's up there, too. The best moment of my life, hands down, was the first time you told me you loved me."

"I remember."

"We were at my place, Sadie was tearing up the couch, and I opened that letter from USF. I remember thinking: maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe I should defer enrollment, because I didn't want to leave you. Even though I had no guarantees." Jensen turns so he's facing Jared and Jared raises his head, looks him in the eye. "And that's when you said it. You said you loved me."

Jared looks away, but he's smiling. "Well, kind of."

"And I knew that I could have everything I ever wanted."

"But now?" Jared studies the ground at their feet. Jensen scrubs a hand across his eyes.

It feels like he's about to flay himself alive, here, but fuck, there's no prettier way to put it and he's desperate now, willing to put his most secret certainties into words, if it means that he has a chance.

"I got scared. I kept waiting for you to figure out that I was a fuck-up. I knew that once you figured out how messed up I was you'd take off, and I don't know. I guess I wanted it to happen, on some level. Wanted to bring on the crisis."

"You felt like a fuck-up? Jensen, you were the most driven person I'd ever met. You were the opposite of a fuck-up, and that was one of the sexiest things about you."

They're so close now, almost touching, and at some point they'd started whispering. Jared's last words were almost too low to hear. Jensen breathes in and Jared's right there.

"Everything was perfect. Too perfect. Nothing that good can last."

Sadie comes over and pushes her nose into Jared's hand and he blinks, sitting back and scratching her under the chin. "I've been giving this a lot of thought. I think that we rushed things." He pats Sadie on the head and smiles a little bit. "Moving in together, moving across the country, and neither one of us knew how to live on our own yet, you know?"

"Do you think that's what happened?"

Jared shrugs, running his hand over Sadie's neck. "I felt like I was in charge of you or something. Like you were doing things wrong, but you weren't. You were doing what was right for you."

"Jay, I never wanted you to feel responsible for me."

"But that's just it. I couldn't _not_ feel responsible, you know? And I felt like I needed to put in more effort. Like if I kept trying, you'd figure it out. You'd figure out that perfection doesn't just happen, it's something that two people work on. Every day."

Jensen reaches out to stroke Sadie's back and she licks his hand.

"I was running away from the only good thing I've ever been given." Jared's in profile against the orange sun as it sinks and Jensen thinks he's never seen anything finer. "Jared, I love you."

"Yeah, I know you do. But I don't know if we can go back to the way things used to be."

Jensen feels like he's been holding his breath and someone just punched him. It's the sick vertigo of realizing that they've been having two different conversations. He stops petting Sadie and brings his hands together in his lap. "No, I guess we can't."

Jared says, "I meant what I said back at Mike's party. I only ever wanted the best for you, because that's what you deserve. You deserve to be happy. And maybe that's not me. Maybe we can't be that for each other. I mean, a lot has changed."

"Yeah." It's a choked whisper and Jensen feels like he's going to cry. He keeps his eyes steady on the park. Harley's chasing a poodle through the palm trees.

Jensen takes a long, steadying breath, collecting his thoughts, because this might be the last time he ever gets to say any of this. "A lot has changed. Maybe too much, but Jay, just know, I never stopped wanting you, and…I want to be who I am when I'm with you. You made me want to be a better person, and maybe I figured all this out too late, but. I know it now, and that's not ever going to change."

At some point the lights in the park had come on. Jared gets up and paces away from the bench, comes back and he's a silhouette, almost lost in the darkness. And that's it. Jensen said what he came here to say. He laid it all out there, and it wasn't good enough. He lost, and there's nothing else he can do about it.

But at least he finally tried.

They're both quiet for a long time. Still. Jensen doesn't want to be the one to walk away this time.

Jared sits back down and says, "Oh fuck this. I feel like I'm talking myself out of something that I- I don't want to give up. Maybe we could start over. Make something new."

"Huh?"

"Can't we just…forget all that crap and just. Get to know each other and how we are, now?"

Jensen's tongue is thick in his mouth. "I- yeah. Start over? Like, give it another try?"

"Yeah, like, date each other. Or something. Only, take it slow this time."

Jensen's words are a whisper, "Starting over sounds good."

Jared smiles, a huge grin that lights up his face. "Okay." He leans back, sticks out his hand. "Hi, my name is Jared Padalecki, it's nice to meet you."

Jensen laughs and says, "You goof."

He pulls Jared into a hug and he can feel the beat of Jared's heart against his own. Jensen buries his face in Jared's neck and hangs on. Sadie barks at them, whining for a hug of her own, and Harley comes racing back over.

The dogs wrestle and Jared laughs. Jensen hugs tighter.

He gets the weirdest sense of waking up. Almost as if he'd been a sleep for a very long time and now, here in the quiet dark, his eyes are finally opening to a blindingly bright morning.

He has no idea what's supposed to happen next. He doesn't know how this is supposed to go, and he figures that's a pretty good start.

The End

* * *


End file.
